


Inadvisable

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Bedsharing, F/M, Loki Hogs the Bed, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, Sleepy Loki, Sleepy Sex, Smut, There's Only Plot If You Squint, loki's library
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Loki has been acting really weird lately. First he kisses you, then he practically shoves you away when you try to embrace him, all the while continuing to constantly flirt with you.You've been stationed alongside him at a remote outpost on Asgard, monitoring for unnatural magical phenomena, and you're starting to think that he might be intentionally trying to drive you crazy. He's irresponsible, he's inappropriate, and now - worst of all - he's stolen the bottom bunk of your bed.You aren't going to stand for that.





	Inadvisable

Sharing guard duty in this tower with Loki Laufeyson has to be the absolute  _ worst _ assignment you’ve ever had. It’s bad enough that you have to share such a confined space with him, devoid of any other human interaction, but the man is a total menace. He strolls around half-naked, he flirts with you constantly, and he  _ always  _ manages to end up avoiding the late-night watch. You’re pretty sure he’s been rigging the coin flips that you use to decide your schedules, but that’s just par for the course, at this point. 

_ God of freakin’ Mischief…  _

Asgard is a beautiful place, and you should probably feel lucky to be assigned here, but the fact that you’re stuck on some icy mountainside in the far north puts a serious damper on things. It’s been weeks, and so far, you haven’t managed to spot a single occurrence of the strange magical phenomena the locals have described; you’re starting to wonder if this was all just some convoluted plan to stick Loki out of the way, and you just happened to be unfortunate enough to get shipped off with him. 

The monitors are set for what remains of the night, and with the blizzard whirling outside, you sincerely doubt that anything is going to be out and about - magical or not. Yawning, you trudge back up the narrow, winding staircase, stopping just inside the door of the one tiny bedroom to poke at the fire. “It’s too damn cold,” you mutter. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

You turn, ready to fall into your bottom bunk and pass out, only to discover that it’s been invaded in your absence. For a second or two, you just stand there in stunned outrage; how did Loki even manage to migrate from the top bunk and fall back asleep in so short a time? You were barely gone for fifteen minutes. 

“Loki,” you hiss, poking his cheek, “wake up, Popsicle. You’re in my bunk.”

He doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Loki!” It’s cold in the watchtower, and you don’t exactly want to start putting on your heavy day-layers, because it seems a little bit like admitting defeat. The bottom bunk is  _ yours,  _ damn it! It’s the one luxury you have in this frozen, godforsaken tower, and Loki isn’t about to steal it from you. 

You poke him again, even more annoyed when you notice that his skin is nice and warm. It’s almost like he’s taunting you, all peaceful and snug under  _ your  _ heavy blankets. “Wake up, Loki.”

He’s still as a statue. A big, handsome, half-naked statue. The worst part is that he takes up almost the entirety of the bunk, which means that you can’t just shove him over and go to sleep beside him. Should you crawl into bed, anyway? You’re losing precious minutes of sleep, and you have a feeling he isn’t going to budge for anything short of a miracle. 

_ One last chance,  _ you think, and this time you give his cheek a light little smack. “Wake up.” Loki sighs, but that’s about it, and you give up. “You are the absolute worst,” you tell him, and then you haul back the covers and slide into bed. 

Maybe this whole trip would be less of a disaster if the two of you didn’t have that one, completely off-the-record, trainwreck of a kiss hanging over your heads. His flirting had gotten the better of you, back at the Tower, and you’d fallen into his arms like some sort of damsel in distress, practically  _ swooning.  _ The memory is a sour one; not ten minutes in, he’d carefully pried himself from your embrace. _ “Don’t do that,” _ he’d said.  _ “I do not need your touch.” _

You can still feel your cheeks burn from mortification of it all. 

But the flirting hasn’t stopped, despite the fact that he’d essentially  _ rejected _ you. To say that you feel some resentment would be an understatement, honestly. How dare he screw around with your feelings like that? 

And now he’s stolen your bunk. 

“Move over, at least,” you grumble, shoving against his shoulder, but you aren’t at all surprised when he doesn’t respond. “I’m going to sleep on top of you, and I know you don’t want that. God forbid anyone  _ snuggles _ the fearsome Loki Laufeyson.”

He suddenly rolls over, wrapping his arm around you, and you squeak in surprise. His eyes are still closed, and his breathing hasn’t changed; he’s still sound asleep. 

_ Oh, God,  _ you think.  _ My life sucks. I just wanted to get some sleep.  _ He’s warm and hard and he smells  _ amazing,  _ and now he’s got you pinned. “Loki,” you whisper, “this doesn’t seem workplace-appropriate.”

But since when has he ever cared about workplace appropriateness? And for that matter, when have you? That’s probably why you got stuck out here at this isolated outpost with him, sassing off to S.H.I.E.L.D. higher-ups one too many times…

And so, you wiggle closer to him, enjoying the sensation of being held - even if you know he’ll probably shove you away as soon as he wakes up. Can’t be caught showing affection for a mortal, now, can he? A strand of his long hair tickles your cheek, and you reach up to brush it aside - but you end up twining it around your finger, admiring its silkiness. He does have really nice hair, you’ve got to give him that. 

Loki shifts again, and now his leg is wrapped around yours, heavy and… muscular. His legs are really, really toned. It’s hard enough to ignore when he’s wearing those stupid skin-tight trousers of his, and downright  _ impossible _ to ignore when he’s only wearing underwear, which is apparently the way he’s decided to sleep tonight.  _ Damn it,  _ you think, cursing yourself for your total lack of restraint as you sneak a hand down to stroke his thigh. 

You pretend that your hand  _ accidentally _ finds its way to his ass, but… really, you’ve just been wanting to grab it for a while now, especially with the way he seems to enjoy showing it off, all encased in leather. Unexpectedly, Loki grunts and rocks against you, and you immediately remove your hand, terrified that you’ve been caught in the act. 

His breathing slows again, and you allow yourself to relax. After all, he’s the one who stole your bed and trapped you halfway beneath his body, isn’t he? This is all  _ his  _ fault, not yours. You trail your fingers along the smooth skin of his back, across the tiny, barely-visible silver scars that wrap around his side. He never talks about where he got them, and you never ask. 

He must be at least a little ticklish, because when your fingertips skim over his stomach, he sighs and hauls you even closer. His hand slides under your shirt, and you try desperately to ignore the sensation of his cock, now hard and pressed firmly against your hip. 

“Loki?”

His hand migrates farther up your shirt, stopping just shy of fully cupping your breast, and his hips rock slightly.  _ This is torture,  _ you think, staring at the bottom of the bunk above you, wondering if you should’ve just given up your territory for the remainder of the night and slept alone. You wiggle, too, wishing that you had some way to alleviate the building tension between your thighs without being caught in the act…

But Loki’s sleeping like the dead, and you’re miserably turned-on from his half-hearted grinding and his wandering hands, and from the tickle of his breath against your ear. It’s worth the risk, isn’t it? You can probably finish before he wakes up. Tense with anticipation, you slowly lower your hand to the waistband of your underwear, slipping your fingers beneath the thin fabric. 

Your lips part as you begin to touch yourself, a tiny, shaky little sigh escaping at the much-needed relief.  _ It’s been a long time,  _ you think.  _ Too long.  _ And the fact that you’re doing it right now, doing it while Loki is literally on top of you… it adds to the rush. Even though you’re trying to be perfectly still, you can’t completely stop the rocking of your hips, and Loki grunts again, his hand flexing. 

You freeze, but it’s too late. He peers at you, bleary-eyed, his thumb absentmindedly flicking over your nipple. When you whine at the sudden burst of sensation, his eyes narrow, and then he’s completely on top of you, pinning the hand that isn’t trapped in between your bodies over your head. 

“What are you doing, mortal?” he whispers, flicking your nipple again, harder this time. Gasping, you try to squirm away, but he’s impossible to budge. 

“You stole my bunk!” you hiss back, your face heated. Your hand, still in your underwear, is now wedged between his erection and the slickness of your own arousal, and you wonder if it’s possible to die of shame. 

Loki blinks again, his gaze sharpening, then he slowly takes it all in: your flushed cheeks, your hand,  _ his  _ hand… he gives your breast a gentle, experimental squeeze, and you instinctively arch against him. “And  _ this _ is your revenge?” he asks, his voice silken. “Denying me the chance to watch you pleasure yourself?”

“No—”

“I did warn you to avoid my embrace, didn’t I? That I do not care to be touched?”

“You’re in my bunk,” you weakly protest. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Is that really your excuse?” His grip tightens on your wrist when you try to wrench away, leaning down so close that his lips brush your ear. “I can smell your arousal, you know,” he tells you. “Were you thinking of me, mortal? Wicked little thing.”

_ That’s it. This ends now.  _ “You were rubbing your dick on me,” you exclaim, “so  _ excuse me  _ if I decide to get a little relief in my  _ own bed—” _

_ “Language,” _ Loki interrupts, feigning offence. “First, you threaten my virtue, and now—”

“Oh, just shut up, Loki; if you’re so worried about your virtue, maybe it’s time to go back to  _ your _ bunk.”

He stirs slightly, and a worrying smile spreads across his lips. “Well,” he says, “now that I am already awake, I suppose I might as well make the most of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You try to hide the fact that you’re desperate to move your hips, to get the pressure where you  _ need  _ it, but you’re starting to think that he can probably tell where you’re mind’s at, because his smile deepens. “Loki…”

“We have around two hours until the sun rises,” he whispers conspiratorially, peeling your shirt up to expose your breasts to the cold night air. “Enough time to explore these late-night cravings, wouldn’t you imagine?”

“I thought you didn’t want to touch me,” you reply. “Remember?”

“It isn’t particularly advisable. I’m not supposed to get too familiar with the mortals, you know. Rules are rules.”

“But?”

_ “But,”  _ he continues, leaning down until your noses are practically touching, “I think that I would like to hear more about my cock.”

You’re speechless; for all of his teasing and innuendos, you’ve never heard him say anything quite so  _ direct.  _ And that little growl in his voice…

“Can I have my hands back, please?” you whisper. Your gaze drops to his lips; they’re so close, and you’re sorely tempted to kiss away that infuriating smirk. 

“That depends,” Loki replies. “What do you intend to do with them? Idle hands are the devil’s plaything, isn’t that what they say on Midgard? We must endeavor to keep them occupied.”

He rolls his hips, and you groan, horribly frustrated. “I’ll touch you,” you offer. “Please, I just need…  _ Oh, God.” _

Loki leers up at you, his lips still on your breast. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that his eyes were practically glowing in the dim light. “What was that you were saying? You  _ need _ something?”

He licks and nips his way up your throat when you stubbornly refuse to answer, and you’re practically thrashing by the time he reaches your lips; the insufferable man won’t let you  _ move,  _ and if you can’t move, you can’t  _ come.  _

The kiss is deep, almost punishing in its ferocity, and you barely notice until it relents that he’s lifted his hips enough for you to free your hand from its shameful spot trapped in your underwear. Your knuckles graze against his hardness as you recoil, and he groans, entwining his fingers with yours as this hand, too, is pinned to the bed. 

Your breath catches in your throat as he darts forward and catches your fingers in his mouth, his tongue caressing slickened skin. It feels electrifying; you’ve completely forgotten the cold. 

“Do you know,” he says, “that I have been wondering how you taste for months now? Ever since our little indiscretion in the hallway of Stark Tower, I’ve been maddeningly curious.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything?” you ask. “It’s been months, and you said  _ nothing.” _

“I already told you that this is very inadvisable. Mortals are always trouble. But,” he continues, releasing your hand to push down his boxers and yank your underwear to the side, “I do have a certain fondness for trouble.”

With your underwear askew and your shirt pushed up practically to your neck, there’s not much left to hide you from Loki’s roaming eyes. He seems particularly fascinated by your belly, stroking your skin with a gentle sort of reverence, then trailing his hand down between your legs. “I have a new curiosity, now.”

“What’s that?” 

You gasp and close your eyes when he slowly presses his fingers inside of you, his thumb just barely brushing your clit. Impatient, you writhe beneath him - but he settles firmly over you, his lips returning you your throat, and you can’t do anything but huff in frustration as he strokes you at a maddeningly slow pace. 

“I am wondering,” he says, “how hard I can fuck you without breaking you.”

“Loki—  _ oh.” _

He’s  _ bitten _ you; it’s not a painful bite, but there’s something terribly wild about it, something almost-feral, and you ache to wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into his skin.

“What do you think?” He positions himself at your entrance, sliding teasingly along your slit. “Will I break you, mortal?”

Now that he’s let go of your hands, you’re free to touch him however you like, and you grab his hips and make every attempt to get him to cooperate. “Hurry up,” you beg,  _ “please,  _ Loki.”

“Tell me what you need,” he replies. “Tell me.”

“You! Inside me; I need you inside me. Please, I—”

Despite your pleading, despite your yearning to fill this tense sort of emptiness inside of you, you can’t help but cry out when he sheathes himself inside of you in one decisive, sharp thrust. “Better?” he asks, but you can’t think of any sort of coherent answer, so you just wrap your legs around his hips and try to hang on for dear life. Your nails dig into his back, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care, and when he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, he’s so deep inside of you that you begin to think he might  _ actually _ break you into little tiny pieces.

You call his name, you curse him and praise him, you beg for him to make you come - it all becomes one unintelligible jumble, mixed in with his grunts and moans and occasional whispered endearments. When you finish before him, despite his  _ explicit _ instructions to the contrary, he bares his teeth and practically snarls. 

“I warned you,” he says, and he pulls out abruptly, nearly knocking you off of the narrow bunk as he rolls you over onto your stomach. He thrusts back inside of you as soon as he’s got you securely beneath him once again, one of his hands fisted in your hair and pressing your face into the pillow. 

Whimpering from the assault of so much sensation on still-sensitive nerves, you bite down on the pillow, gripping the sheets beside you as hard as you can. “I am going to spill inside of you,” he pants, “ because you are  _ mine,  _ do you understand?”

You feel yourself instinctively clench around him, this declaration of possessiveness sparking something in you that you don’t entirely understand. “Yes,” you reply; you doubt that he can actually hear you, muffled by the pillow, but he seems to get the message. He whispers your name, low and coaxing, and when he finally comes, you do, too. 

He’s slicked with sweat, and so are you, both breathless and thrumming with long-awaited pleasure. Loki’s weight is crushing, but you don’t particularly mind it, and when he rolls to his side, you almost miss it. The moment of longing is brief, though, because he drags you to his chest almost immediately. Exhausted and well-sated, you don’t even think about how strange all this physical closeness is; you just fall asleep, soothed by his scent and his steady heartbeat. 

When you wake up a few hours later, Loki’s face is only inches above your own. He recoils almost immediately, and a faint blush spreads across his pale cheeks. “Are you alright?” he asks. His voice is slightly raspy, and he rubs his eyes like he’s got a terrible headache. “You have bruises.”

“I do?” you ask, surprised; you  _ feel _ fine. “I’m alright. I mean… I’m a little, y’know,  _ sore,  _ but… I think that’s to be expected.” You pull the blanket up to your chin, realizing you’re still completely naked. “Y’know?”

“I… I am very sorry,” he says, and his face grows even pinker. “That is to say, I hope that I was not too rough with you. It’s the Jötnar mating season; I should’ve told you sooner.”

“Wait, what?”

Loki sighs, flopping back against your pillow, his hair a tangled mess. He seems almost forlorn. “Apparently, Frost Giants don’t reproduce very often, and so nature has provided them with occasional… well, let’s call it a bout of madness. It is a very lusty sort of madness, and it lasts for  _ months—” _ Abruptly, he stops, his hand moving to your belly. “I should’ve insisted that you stay behind. Trapping you here with my raging hormones was terribly irresponsible.”

“Oh.” Your heart falls, but you try to hide it. “So, you don’t actually like me, then. I was just… in the right place at the right time.”

The look he sneaks at you from the corner of his eye is quizzical. “An interesting choice of words, that. But no, I would not say that I do not  _ like _ you; it is only that an affair with a mortal isn’t—”

“Isn’t advisable,” you interrupt. “I know, I know. I’ve heard this speech before.” You fidget with the hem of your blanket. “I guess that explains the red eyes last night. Thought I might’ve imagined that..”

Loki clears his throat. He’s still a little pink-cheeked, and it’s cuter than it should be, especially considering the fact that he fucked you like a wild animal only a few hours ago. “Norns help me, I  _ do  _ like you,” he mumbles. 

“Really?”

“Yes. If I did not, do you really think that I would be in bed with you? I’m not a  _ complete _ animal.”

“I know.”

The both of you fall silent for a few minutes. You don’t know what else to say. Ask him if he’s planning a repeat of last night, maybe?  _ A repeat of last night would be good. Really good. _

“I have a new curiosity,” Loki finally says. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“I am  _ wondering,”  _ he says, trailing one of his fingers around your navel, “how long it will take to make you fall hopelessly in love with me.”

Your heart flutters, and you capture his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Well,” you tell him, “we’ll be here for a while. Why don’t we find out?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’ve written a moderate amount of smut at this point, and I still basically pass out every time I post something new.
> 
> (so i rly hope you guys like it) <3


End file.
